“Hell, yes, you can assume that,” Dox said. He turned to me. “Do you know where to find him?”

“Feel free to ask me after we’re on the plane,” I said. “You know, when we’re not right in front of a foreign intelligence operative.” I looked at Boaz. “No offense.”

Boaz smiled. “None taken.”

“I don’t care if Boaz is from Mars,” Dox said. “I’d trust him to watch my back anytime. And I hope he’d trust me to watch his.” He looked at Boaz, who nodded back. “Plus the man appreciates a good joke. Unlike some people I could mention, despite their possession of other positive attributes. So tell me: where do we find this miserable, trouser-shitting little dick-puller of a whining, chickenshit, yellow-bellied, squealing, pissing, piglet motherfucker and put him down like the rabid dog he is?”

Boaz looked awed. Before he could ask Dox to repeat it all with annotations, I said, “‘We’ don’t find anyone. You can barely walk. From the way you’re breathing, your ribs are probably broken and morphine is masking the worst of it.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Dox said with a grimace. “I’ve had worse.”

“You lie,” Boaz said, in a weird British accent. The two of them broke up, Dox half laughing, half groaning. I didn’t get it.

When they stopped, Boaz said, “It’s true I’m a foreign intelligence operative. But that’s my, what do you call it, a day job. This operation…let’s just say, it wasn’t sanctioned by my organization.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Naftali. He’s Gil’s brother.”

“I’ll be damned,” I said. “I thought he looked familiar.”

“Yes, he looks a bit like Gil. And he’s dangerous like Gil. He doesn’t think our management has been sufficiently motivated about avenging his brother’s death.”

“That’s management for you,” Dox said. “If they’re not doing nothing, they’re overreacting. Never anything in between.”

“You’re on your own on this?” I asked Boaz.

He shrugged. “Certain people…are happy to look the other way while Naftali and I are on vacation. You know how it works. Sometimes people want something done, but don’t want to know about it. They don’t want their fingerprints on it. I believe America’s former defense secretary Rumsfeld was known for this. The ‘rubber glove syndrome.’ No fingerprints, no attribution.”

“Christ,” I said, “doesn’t anyone just work for the government anymore?”

Dox groaned. “I told you once, man. Privatization is the wave of the future. Hey, you don’t think we still have a shot at Hilger here in Singapore, do you?”

I shook my head. “I doubt Hilger goes to the grocery store for a quart of milk without five different currencies and three different passports. He’ll come back to the yacht club, hear the sirens, and just melt away.”

Kanezaki said, “And we can’t wait for him at the club. It’s too hot right now. We can’t go back.”

“All right, forget Singapore,” Boaz said. “But if you have information about where we can find Hilger after this, Naftali and I will act on it. Privately, discreetly, and immediately. You can count on that.”

Kanezaki shrugged. “These secrets always get out sooner or later anyway,” he said, and Boaz grinned.

I wasn’t surprised. Kanezaki wanted Hilger dead enough to bring me in for it. Why not the Israelis, too? And it wasn’t as though he would be sharing classified intel. Everything he knew on this op, he had generated with me.

Kanezaki briefed Boaz on what we knew. When he was done, Boaz said, “So this port security guy in Amsterdam, Boezeman, you think he’s integral to whatever Hilger is planning.”

“That’s right,” Kanezaki said.

“And you have his particulars? Work and home addresses, telephone numbers, photographs?”

“Of course.”

“Who is Hilger working for?”

“I don’t know. There are a lot of groups that would love to take down the refineries at Rotterdam. AQ, Hamas, Hezbollah…and Hilger is mixed up with all of them.”

Boaz pursed his lips and blew out. “If you’re right about what Hilger’s been doing, how long do you think we’ve got before this whole thing goes down?”

Kanezaki nodded as though this was exactly what he’d been considering. “It’s hard to say. We know he’s been planning Rotterdam for a while, that it’s important to him. With the losses he’s taken, my guess is, he’ll get to the Netherlands as soon as he can to see it through.”

Dox said, “If he shipped a device, why not just use a timer? Or a detonator rigged to a mobile phone? Call the number from wherever and whenever, and boom.”

Boaz shook his head. “Too many potential problems. The timer isn’t good because he wouldn’t know precisely when the package arrived. The mobile phone isn’t good because there might be no reception inside the container. And either way, he’d be taking a chance that the device might have been damaged or otherwise rendered inoperable if the container were dropped or mishandled at sea.”

“Boaz’s specialty is bombs,” I said.

Boaz smiled. “These days, people call them Improvised Explosive Devices. It sounds more impressive. But nobody gave me a raise for it.”

“Besides,” Kanezaki said, “if he could have done the whole thing remotely, he wouldn’t have needed Boezeman or any other inside man in the first place.”

Dox nodded. “Right, right. And even if Hilger’s not in town, I’ll bet Boezeman will have plenty of information that could lead us to him. If he’s asked nicely, that is.”

“What about your organization?” I said to Boaz. “Feed this to them, they’ll feed it to…”

“To the Agency,” Boaz said. “Our counterpart relations with the Dutch are…not strong.”

I shrugged. “Then the Agency will feed it to the Dutch.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kanezaki said. “The Agency’s not going to pass along anything without studying it first. Most of what we’re going on comes from unvetted sources and the rest is speculation. They’ll probably never pass it along at all. Even if they did, I’d say the time frame is a month, minimum. No one wants to send a warning like this and have it turn out to be false. Believe me, in a bureaucracy, the fear of looking stupid is stronger than the fear of losing Rotterdam. Official channels are a waste of time on this.”

We were all quiet for a moment. Boaz said, “This whole thing may be…a wild-goose chase, true. But my gut tells me it’s worth looking into. Besides, I’ve been thinking about visiting Amsterdam. Rain, what about you?”

I looked at Dox. He said, “If you’re not going, I am, I don’t care if I have to crawl. It’s not just because of whatever nefarious shit Hilger’s up to there. And it’s not just because I want revenge, either, although hell yes I do. It’s because Hilger knows we’re going to come after him. First chance he gets, he’ll be looking to preempt us to improve his own longevity. I refuse to live my life wondering whether that bastard’s managed to acquire me again. I’ll take him out first, thank you, and I’ll sleep better because of it.”

We were all quiet again. Dox said, “Besides, if Tom is right, Hilger’s fixing to do something nasty in Rotterdam, and we’re the only ones in a position to stop it.”

I thought for a moment. What Dox had said was right, I knew. I didn’t want Hilger to live any more than he did.

But I was keenly aware also of Kanezaki’s point about doing something to thwart what Jannick’s and Accinelli’s deaths were intended to foster. I hated that he’d hit a nerve with that shit. I knew he was manipulating me. But I also wanted to believe there was some way to undo what I’d done.

I sighed and tilted my head toward Dox. “Let’s get him on the plane.”

Dox shook his head. “I ain’t going anywhere unless you’re going to Amsterdam.”

“I’m going,” I said.

Dox smiled. “All right, good, ’cause I could use a good nurse about now. Boaz, watch out that he doesn’t sneak off to the red-light district.”

Boaz grinned. “I’ll be careful.”